


In the darkness, there is no difference

by tricksterhera



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bottom Colt, Child Soldiers, Disassociation, Drunkenness, Eventual Sex, Kissing, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Underage Drinking, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricksterhera/pseuds/tricksterhera
Summary: Maybe it’s a bad idea, he thinks, but in the darkness, he sees no difference.His hands slides over Colt’s lithe body, pulling the unsteady boy closer to him,“You’re warm Bertl…” he slurs. His heart skips a beat at the nickname, remembering days under the sun with another-He crashes his lips on Colt’s-Maybe it’s a mistake, but in the darkness he sees no difference.
Relationships: Bertolt Hoover/Colt Grice, past Bertolt Hoover/Reiner Braun
Comments: 9
Kudos: 11





	In the darkness, there is no difference

**Author's Note:**

> (Berucolt being drunk buddies ig) (prompt from @intonerthree on twitter)

He stares up at the skies. The air is thick with polluted smog and dirty air. He’s lying in a deep crater, created by the blast of his transformation. In actuality, he didn't need to do much for the battle, they dropped him off from the skies and he transformed in the middle of the battle, blowing away anything weaker than concrete and the enemies. At the sight of his towering titan, they all turned tail and surrendered, fleeing and surrendering the town. Well, what’s left of the town anyways. Deep in his heart, he felt relieved that there were no civilians in the town as they had all been relocated when the war started and the Middle Eastern Alliance used the town as a front, but another part, a larger part of him, felt empty.

The sight of the blown away town got him sick for a moment, a flash of Shiganshina assaulting his eyes and before he knew it he’s tumbling down from the cocoon of flesh and onto the freshly made crater. Gasping as he felt the phantom blade on his neck, he rips the flesh tendrils on his neck away violently, relishing the pain as it gave him a sharp clarity, clawing at the dirt and laughing almost maniacally as it accumulates under his nail. 

He collapses unto it, rubbing his cheeks on the ground, it’s real. He’s real, and alive. Alivealivealivealivealive. He cries into the dirt below him. The most reliable warrior, Bertoldt Hoover, the god of destruction, he sobs, of course he was, he let nothing deter him from his duties. He blew away everyone in Shiganshina hadn’t he? And in the end, it was Zeke’s fault for letting Eren go. He brings glory to Marley, his face pasted on every single war bond and propaganda posters that keeps getting put up no matter how much he tears them down.

He blew away Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie and Sasha, everyone in that damned district. Their bodies are nothing but specks of char on the ground.

He blew away Reiner, till he is nothing but blood and gore on the ground. 

He vomits all over the clawed dirt, curling up on the ground as the remains of the colossal slowly steams away into nothing. Just the bones remain now, it’s always been the hardest to disappear. 

He wonders how long he could just lay here, sooner or later he’ll need to claw his way back to the base of operations, where he’d have to explain what happened to Marley and general Calvi and his board of pretentious power hungry assholes. He sighs on his back, gazing up at the slowly reddening skies. 

“...over- Mr.Hoover! Shit- I mean, sergeant Hoover?” a faint, familiar voice calls out, slowly getting closer. The polite thing to do is to perhaps call out, but Bertoldt hasn’t been polite for over two years, not even to Marleyans. So he ignores the calls, opting to stare at the skies. It bleeds red, like the flesh of a blown open titan’s nape, like the flesh cocoon of a titan, like blood, like Reiner-

“There you are, sergeant!” a shock of blonde hair pops over the edge of the crater, it’s the 4th generation warrior candidate, top of his class, Colt Grice. The boy waves at him, hoisting himself over the crater mark to slide down over to him. The dirt breaks around in plumes as the boy slides down the crater, getting snagged on a loose rock and stumbling, “Whoa-” he yelps as he tumbles the rest of the way down, crashing down on the bottom of the crater.

Bertoldt just makes a noncommittal noise at the fall, eyes briefly checking the candidate, making sure he isn’t dead before going back to the sky.

“Sergeant Hoover?” the boy asks, voice a little tight with pain, before he clambers over to Bertoldt, “A-are you hurt? Do you need any medical assistant?” he stammers in panic, trying to check Bertoldt over, that made Bertoldt chuckles, small at first before it blows up to loud, thundering laughter,

He sits up then, looking at the much smaller boy, just shy of his 15th birthday, limbs still growing, his cuffs short on his frame as he’s rapidly shooting up like a weed. For awhile he just wheezes through his laughter at the nervous boy,

“Um- sergeant-” Colt says before he cuts him off,

“Just call me Bertoldt.” he says, standing up. He towers over the other, still growing, if that is even possible, he’s 6’5, almost 6’6 now, he towers over everyone, just like his titan. He looks down at the blonde, offering his hand.

Stand Reiner. He could remember a similar scene and it bleeds into his reality,

“Come Colt, we have to go back.” he says instead, if he does it differently, if he says the words differently- he thinks, maybe he won’t remember. Maybe he won’t be haunted by these walking nightmares. The blonde looks up at him, the same shade as Reiner- he looks into his wide eyes, just like- no, the eyes are blue, just like the sky. 

Amber eyes gazed up at him in awe, he could see himself reflected on them, when they were much younger-. He gazes into the sky, it’s Colt’s eyes, looking up at him, he could see his silhouette casting a dark reflection on them. Colt takes his hand hesitantly and he hoists the other up, he’s light, stupidly light for his height and Bertoldt thinks he could easily carry him over the crater. And he almost did, but he didn't, he let the boy struggle over the steep slope instead. 

He walks away from the crater, towards their base. 

“Serg- Mr. Bertoldt, wait-'' Colt grunts as he tries to climb over the crater, fingers clawing on the loose dirt all around it. He slips a few times, panting as he tries his hardest to hoists himself over the rim, 

“Come on Colt.” he beckons with his chin, stopping in his tracks, but made no move to help the blonde up,

“I got it!” he smiles through his tiny wheezes, white uniform smudged with dirt and debris. He staggers towards Bertoldt and he notices the tiny limp he’s sporting. He must’ve hurt himself when he fell earlier, Bertoldt notes.

He says nothing else, turning away to walk to their shared destination, although he keeps his stride slow to let Colt keep up with him. It’s nice he thinks, the silence between them, the other doesn’t try to fill it and he’s almost grateful for it. He glances at the blonde, he’s barely up to his chest, it’s wrong. He thinks. Colt isn’t Reiner, but at the same time, he doesn’t think he cares anymore. From this angle he could almost pretend, they have the exact same hair, down to the tiny part on the bangs framing their forehead, but the nose is all wrong, where Reiner’s is a sharp bridge, Colt’s is a small upturned slope-

Before he knows it they’re sitting in the war room, being surrounded by the council as they almost praise him for a job well done. He blinks, feeling a tendril of panic at the slip, he looks around and spots Colt standing behind Zeke, his blonde hair like a beacon of light. Bertoldt calms down, his heart still thuds against his chest, but it’s almost rhythmic now as he stares at the boy who is nodding along Zeke’s words reverently. 

“He’s shown exceptional skill, I think it wouldn’t be a mistake to assign him as the inheritor of the beast, not to mention that we only have three years left on Zeke’s tenure…” commander Magath’s voice drones on as Bertoldt half listens to the discussion being said around the table. He thinks of Amber, like the row of liquor bottles he saw the night before in a dingy bar. He wonders if that bar is still around or if he’s blown it away with his titan earlier. He hopes it’s around, he wants to drink until he passes out, if only for a brief hour or so before his healing kicks in. 

“Are we boring you Hoover?” General Calvi’s gnatty voice breaks him out of his musing,

“Of course not sir.” he shakes his head, just deep in thought. He wants to add, but doesn’t. Thankfully the general seems to take his answer without any trouble, maybe it’s because he just got them a huge win just earlier, but he’ll take it. 

He tries to seem like he’s interested in the conversation then, though his eyes keep sweeping over to Colt and his mind just replaying weird mixtures of scenes and liquor bottles over and over again. 

By the time he blinks again, the meeting’s adjourned, most of the officers are starting to stand from their seats and he does the same. He walks over to Zeke and Colt in a few strides, he grabs the candidate by the arm, covering the armband almost entirely,

“War chief, I’m borrowing your boy.” he says without a pause before he drags Colt away from Zeke who seems more than content to let him do as he pleases,

“Sergeant- what-?” the boy yelps as he’s dragged off,

“It’s Bertoldt,” he corrects, “Whatever… We’re going drinking.” he says dismissively, it’s not as if Colt can refuse, his armband is yellow- Reiner’s would have been red.

“What? I’m not old eno-” he protests,

“If you can fight a war, you’re old enough to drink.” Bertoldt says as they walk the empty streets of the town, his eyes sweep the charred signs on the concrete buildings in the shopping district. He finds the bar, only by the raucous laughter and singing coming from it, the wooden roof collapsed from the blast, but the building remains standing. 

Bertoldt opens the door and it almost falls off the hinges as he did so. He pays it no mind as he walks in the bar filled with drunken Eldian soldiers, once again thanking any type of god that exists in their mind for another day of getting to live. All their eyes immediately drawn towards his red armband, before travelling up his imposing height. They burst into a cheer for him, their god-

He walks towards the counter, ignoring their songs of praises for him, hand still gripping Colt’s arm, almost bruising- he realizes when the other boy grunts. He releases his arm, 

“Sorry.” he says, the word almost drowned in the loud bar,

“I- it’s fine…” Colt smiles at him, with his eyes closed he- Bertoldt shakes his head, looking away to the bartender, who’s just one of the Eldian soldiers. 

“Something hard please.” he says to the bartender, they nod and got a bottle of whiskey off the shelf, pushing it towards Bertoldt with two tin cup, 

“Take the whole thing, looks like you need it.” They comment before tending to the other patrons. Bertoldt quickly swipes the bottle and cups off the counter,

“Let’s go somewhere else,” he says to Colt, “It’s too noisy here.” he grunts as he leaves the building, not bothering to check behind him, confident the blonde will follow him regardless.

They end up sitting on a roof to some concrete building, looking up at the night skies and drinking alcohol like a pair of deviant teenagers, except they aren’t. They’ve fought in a war, killed people. Him more so than Colt. He chugs the whiskey straight from the bottle, whilst Colt took tentative sips from his full cup, it’s been maybe a while since they were up here yet the cup remains halfway filled.

“You’re killing me here, just drink it so I can pour you more.” Bertoldt mumbles, feeling the heat from the alcohol in his belly, his breath comes out in puffs of heat. It’s cold in the Middle East, he thinks, or maybe he’s just warm. 

Colt swallows down the liquor in his cup as if he was given an order, grimacing at the rapid burns sliding down his throat and coughing. Bertoldt ignores it and pours more in the cup, up to the brim.

“Happy Yule…” he raises the half empty bottle at Colt before taking another swig. Maybe it’s his imagination, but the other boy is definitely closer to him now. The blonde giggle at his words, cheeks horribly flushed from the liquor he just drank, it doesn’t show on his own, much darker complexion, but Colt’s stupidly white skin doesn’t hide the evident of drunkenness well, or at all. 

Turns out the other boy isn’t good at handling his liquor, giggling at nothing and everything at the same time, even as the cup is already half empty once more, the liquor sloshes over the rim at the swaying of the blonde. He’s draped over Bertoldt’s side now, already drunk from just one and a half cups, his own bottle is empty. He takes the cup from Colt, who didn’t even budge, still trying to burrow himself into Bertoldt, who’s very pleasantly warm. All previous politeness and restraints gone with the alcohol in his system.

Maybe it’s a bad idea, he thinks, but in the darkness, he sees no difference.

His hands slides over Colt’s lithe body, pulling the unsteady boy closer to him,

“You’re warm Bertl…” he slurs. His heart skips a beat at the nickname, remembering days under the sun with another-

He crashes his lips on Colt’s-

Maybe it’s a mistake, but in the darkness he sees no difference.

**Author's Note:**

> god what a mess


End file.
